<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Not a Doll by auroracalisto</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23646034">Not a Doll</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/auroracalisto/pseuds/auroracalisto'>auroracalisto</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Victor Zsasz/Reader [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gotham (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse, Death, F/M, No Major Character Death, Reader was married, Slow Burn, Widow, mentions of abuse, past-abuse, possible trigger warning, reader kills her husband, relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:41:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,250</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23646034</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/auroracalisto/pseuds/auroracalisto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader has killed her husband—and just in time for Oswald and Victor to show up at her door, expecting him to be alive so Victor can take care of business.  Now that he's gone, Oswald offers her a job and protection.  She takes it and slowly finds herself falling for Victor, but forever dealing with the abuse and psychological torture her late husband projected onto her.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Victor Zsasz/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Victor Zsasz/Reader [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656385</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Not a Doll</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Totally sorry if you know someone named Roger, Roger Matthews, or if your surname is actually Matthews.  Totally just made up in a name generator.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>Just looking at him made your insides churn with anxiety.  Both of them. </p><p>The Penguin stood in front of you while his infamous hitman stood beside him, leaning up against the countertop in your kitchen.  </p><p>Oswald smirked and crossed his arms over his chest.  “Are you going to talk?  Or will Victor, here, have to force you?”</p><p>Your eyes momentarily met with Victor’s and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. </p><p>“No,” you squeaked out.  Your bound hands were behind you and your ankles were tied to the chair you sat on.  However, your thumb nervously played with the wedding band that adorned your ring finger.  “What do you want to know?”  You tore your gaze from Victor and looked up at Oswald.  An old bruise on your cheek that had been covered with makeup was showing, as the makeup had rubbed off from the fiasco you had gone through being tied to the chair. </p><p>“Where is he?” Oswald asked, leaning against his umbrella—or was it a cane?  You couldn’t exactly tell.  The lights in your kitchen were dim. </p><p>“Who?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows. </p><p>“Don’t play dumb,” Oswald warned.  “Where is Roger?”</p><p>He watched as your eyes nervously moved to the hallway.  Oswald motioned for Victor to go and check, not needing much else from you. </p><p>Victor walked down and opened every door.  He noted how spotless every single room was.  As he reached your laundry room, he seen some clothes stained with blood sitting on the dryer with stain remover on top of it.  Victor cocked an eyebrow, and shut that door, glancing back at you.  He saw you staring at him. </p><p>“The last room,” you spoke, your voice no longer quivering. </p><p>Oswald chuckled as he watched you.  “My, my, what did you do?” he grinned, following after Victor to see what had happened. </p><p>Victor opened the door to reveal your husband, or rather, late-husband, lying there in the bed with a knife plunged in his chest, right above his heart. </p><p>Your heart pounded in your ears.  You couldn’t believe that now, out of all times, this crime lord was in your apartment, looking for your abusive husband.  He was terrible.  Surely, they wouldn’t turn you in.  Worst they could do would be to kill you—or turn you in.  You still haven’t decided as you watched the two men return. </p><p>“Well, it looks like you’ve made Victor’s job a whole lot easier,” Oswald laughed, shaking his head.  “What happened, Miss Matthews?”</p><p>“Please, don’t call me that,” you quickly said, a rather panicked expression gracing your face.  “It’s—my name is [Your full name].”</p><p>Oswald gave a small nod, still expecting you to answer. </p><p>“He . . . he threatened to kill me in my sleep.  This . . . wasn’t the first time,” you said, a lifeless look in your eyes. </p><p>Victor took note.</p><p>“I killed him before . . . he could kill me.”</p><p>Oswald rose an eyebrow, keeping a hand tight on his umbrella.  “Alright,” he said.  “What were you expecting to do?”</p><p>“Leave Gotham.”</p><p>“Surely, you weren’t looking for a job,” Oswald grinned. </p><p>“A job?” you questioned him, in disbelief.  You had just killed your husband.  Why would you be looking for a job?</p><p>Oswald kept his eyes on you for a moment before he bent down in front of her.  “Victor can teach you how to protect yourself, [Your name],” he said, reaching a hand out to touch the bruise on your cheek.  “I can give you a home that doesn’t reek of your ex.”</p><p>You stared at him for a moment.  You could either leave Gotham and be on the run, or you could go with the biggest crime lord in Gotham and have his trusted hitman to protect you—er, teach you to protect yourself. </p><p>You look over at Victor with wide eyes. </p><p>Victor was silently cursing Oswald.  What did he look like, a babysitter?  But when you looked at him, his breath hitched in his throat.  He had to admit, despite the bruises and your messy attire, you were quite beautiful. </p><p>“Okay,” you spoke, nodding as you returned your gaze to Oswald.  “But—but promise I will never have to deal with him or anyone who—who works with him.  I can’t—they’ve . . .”  You didn’t continue.  Your husband’s colleagues had done terrible things to you.  You couldn’t fathom what would happen if they had found out that it was you who had killed their friend. </p><p>“You won’t have to worry about them,” Oswald said, motioning towards Victor.  “He will take care of them.  All of them.”</p><p>“Just promise me,” you said, feeling the tears you had fought so hard to try and keep away. </p><p>“I promise,” Oswald gave you a pretty forced smile, but it eased your nerves. </p><p>You nodded and took in a deep breath.  “Thank you.  Thank you . . .”</p><p>You looked back towards you and your husband’s shared room as Victor came behind you and cut off the ropes that were tied tight around your wrists and ankles.  You said nothing to either of them, unsure of what to do.</p><p>“Go and pack your things,” Oswald said.  “Victor will go with you.  I need to make a couple of calls.”</p><p>You shakily got to your feet, keeping an arm around your torso.  Just the other day, your husband had beat you to the point you couldn’t keep anything down.  Your stomach was still quite sensitive and the bruise was insurmountable.  But the sight you were greeted within your bedroom made you smile a bit to yourself.  He was gone.  He could no longer hurt you. </p><p>Bending down to get a duffle bag from under your bed, a groan escaped your lips.  Your hand clutched your stomach and Victor suddenly stopped you from bending too much more.</p><p>“What are you getting?” he asked. </p><p>“A bag.  It’s . . . it’s black, I think.”</p><p>He nodded and bent down instead, pulling it out from under the bed.  “This is all you want from here?”</p><p>You nodded and took the bag.  “Thank you,” you mumbled, and he nodded.  You sat it on your side of the bed, avoiding your husband entirely.  You began to pack some clothes and that was about it.  You didn’t want anything here.  You had nothing. </p><p>When you first moved in with your husband, he was good for you.  Bought you things.  Let you keep your memorabilia you loved so much from your childhood out in the open.  But two months after, something changed.  He changed.  He destroyed your memories.  He destroyed everything he had ever bought you, save for your clothing.  He expected you to dress nice and cutesy for him.  You were his doll. </p><p>No.  No, you were not his doll.  Not anymore.  You looked at the clothing for a moment and began to take everything out that you remembered your husband loving.  That only left you with a couple of black tee shirts, a pair of dark jeans, and some undergarments.  But that was all.  Staring at it for a moment, you quickly zipped the bag up and looked over at Victor. </p><p>“Alright, I’m ready,” you said, watching as Victor nodded. </p><p>He didn’t wait for you, leaving the room, knowing that you would follow.  He would take you to Oswald’s home and then come back for your husband’s body.  He would have to dispose of it. </p><p>You took one last look around the apartment, your jaw hard and set. </p><p>You were not his doll.</p><p>Your ex-husband did not own you.</p><p>Roger did not own you.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>